When critics say that kids – students – don’t understand what they’re protesting or that they can’t possibly be mature enough to know their own minds, I want them to meet the 3rd grade student at one of the schools I work at and see his intelligent, mature, and compassionate behavior. Student A came to our media center with Student B’s computer, trying to help Student B log into an account. Student B was all over the place – ADHD and probably some other unspecified issues. Student A would calmly redirect him back to the issue at hand without any visible annoyance or impatience. When we asked if Student B could share with another student, Student A said “Oh, sure. He can share with me.” No hesitation. No sigh. No complaint. Age 10. Our future is in such good hands.

Works CitedI follow Debbie Reese on Twitter, who is one of a few of my “go-to” people for what’s what in literature and its treatment of Native American/First Nations peoples. Recently she had a thread surrounding a new narrative non-fiction release about the Cherokee Nation indicating she gave it a big red X. She also included a brief look at the author’s notes/acknowledgements and a follow-up comment by one of the authorities consulted:

And while I know anyone cited in acknowledgements runs the risk of knowing their expert advice or knowledge has been mangled, it sure seems horribly unfair that his name now has to be associated with a book he would never recommend to others. “All mistakes are mine” is a necessary and accurate disclaimer for all authors, and I don’t really know how to get around it, but it sure has me thinking about my own acknowledgements in the future and ways to more thoroughly own any mistakes and ignorant offense I am sure to include in my works.

The publisher (Simon and Schuster) says “The result is a richly evocative portrait of the Cherokee that is destined to become the defining book on this extraordinary people.” And I feel such a knot in my stomach that this white man’s book is being touted as being a defining book about a people already represented so poorly in all aspects of their lives – fiction and non-fiction. I don’t think we need any more white perspective on non-white history.

“…a guy friend from college believed he was complimenting me by musing, ‘Who would have thought Jess Knoll would have been the success story from our class?’

Who would have thought? Me. I did.”

That’s right. SHE thought it. I am not as full of fire and confidence as this author is, but I know the feeling of tamping down my self-confidence. I’ve learned to let go of some of that nonsense, because dang it, I’ve got a lot of experience in a lot of different areas and why shouldn’t I be proud of that? And yet, I still feel like an obnoxious braggart sometimes. But maybe I should just own it and do like Knoll says at the end: “…[I’ll] do what men do, and shrug.”

To add on to that… I was at an informal dinner party over the weekend and a retired nurse told a story about the differing relationships among medical professionals within a larger hospital vs a smaller one. She made this comment: “Surprisingly, the nurses found the female doctors easier to work with.” Odd, don’t you think? Honestly, I don’t find that surprising at all. *shrug*

Currently Reading (print): An American Marriage (A) – Tayari Jones

Currently Reading (audio):The Handmaid’s Tale (A) – Margaret Atwood

Song of the Week:

Earlier this week I experienced my first major bout with vertigo. It’s still hanging out with me, but I’ve been lucky in that it’s been super mild and completely manageable since that first instance. It made me think of U2’s song… and when I pulled up the video, I remembered the completely ridiculous start to this song: “Uno, dos, tres, catorce” (One, two, three, fourteen). Why? I remember looking it up way back when and not finding any answer. So again I ask whyyyy?? Maybe it goes along with the craziness of the physical condition of vertigo. IDK.